


Closed Door Policy

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In <a href="http://synphstories.tumblr.com/post/33501902579/gird-your-loins-and-find-the-flamethrower-alfred">Gird Your Loins and Find the Flamethrower</a>, Alfred has to deal with the aftermath of Damian walking in on Bruce and Dick having sex on his bed. This is how that whole mess started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Door Policy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klose/gifts).



> A commission for Yam/klose

Bruce does not think twice about following Dick into Damian’s room one sunny summer afternoon. They are in the middle of a conversation after all and Damian is out on the grounds with Titus. He’ll be gone for at least another hour or two and so, Bruce allows himself to get comfortable in his youngest son’s room.

“Remind me again what you’re looking for,” Bruce says as he watches Dick crouch down so that he can peer underneath Damian’s bed. “Did Damian do anything that I should know about?” Bruce crosses his arms over his chest and watches as Dick drops down onto his belly so that he can stick his right arm under the bed and grope around for something. “He’s not hiding weapons again is he?”

Dick lets out a loud and faintly nasal burst of laughter from where he is lying on the carpet of Damian’s room. “Do you really think that we’d be able to find Damian’s stash of weapons if he didn’t want us to find them?” Dick pulls his arm out from underneath Damian’s bed and then resurfaces empty-handed with his white t-shirt all but covered in bits of Titus’s black fur. “And besides, if Damian is allowed to use weapons and be Robin, then it would be hypocritical as hell to tell him that he couldn’t keep them in his room.”

There is more than a hint of disapproval in Dick’s voice at that and Bruce at least has the grace to duck his head and feel properly chastised. “If you’re not looking for his stash, what  _are_  you looking for?” Bruce asks, reaching for the nearest subject change at hand.

Dick looks at Bruce and shakes his head, smiling up at the other man. “Now I know for sure that you tune me out when I’m talking to you,” he says in a light tone, using the side of Damian’s perfectly made bed to get to his feet.

“Tim told me that Damian had some things that belonged to him and Jason. I’m just trying to get them back before the three of them use it as an excuse to start fighting.” The “again” at the end of Dick’s sentence is silent, but implied and he makes a face at Bruce that screws up the bridge of his long nose. “I am way too old for this.”

Bruce cracks a smile at that and shakes his head at Dick. “So are they.”

Dick grins back at Bruce and then starts to dust himself off with brisk motions of his long-fingered hands. “That’s why I’m here,” he says with a weary smile born from months of playing mediator between Jason, Tim, and Damian. “You’re busy with your night job, Alfred doesn’t need the stress, and the last time I asked Damian to go apologize…” Dick trails off and leaves his sentence unfinished.

However, Bruce can fill in the blanks himself. He remembers the last time that Damian had gotten into it with Jason and Tim as well as the collateral damage that ensued from their last fight. “So you’re looking for those things, whatever they are,” Bruce says from his vantage point beside the door. “Does Damian know?”

“Of course,” Dick says over his shoulder as he walks over to the set of bookshelves on the far side of the room, “He had to disarm his traps.”

Bruce crosses the room so that he can sit on the edge of the bed and follow Dick with his eyes. “I can’t imagine that he took it very well. How mad was he this time?”

Dick shrugs his shoulders and replies without looking back at Bruce. “Level five,” Dick says, referring to their ten-point system of rating Damian’s moods and his reactions to the things that anger him.

“He didn’t disarm all of his traps and he wished me good luck finding what I was looking for.” Dick pauses so that he can duck his head to peer behind a row of history tomes on Damian’s bookcase and then continues talking to Bruce. “Why do you think he’s out with Titus so late in the afternoon? He’s mad that I’m not taking his side, but he doesn’t want to see if I get hurt from his traps.”

Bruce opens his mouth and then closes it without verbalizing his unspoken question. It isn’t the sort of thing that Bruce says out loud, or the sort of thing that he even thinks too hard about. He is no slouch when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but understanding the complex relationship between his Robins --current and former-- constantly eludes him.

He settles instead for a different statement. “I don’t want to watch you get hurt either, Dick,” he says with a rough note in his voice. “If you can’t find what you’re looking for… I can talk to Damian for you.”

“Hah!”

Dick lets out a braying burst of laugh and then claps his hands over his mouth when Bruce reacts with a scowl and hunches in on himself. Dick looks at Bruce with his face burning bright red and then makes his way across the carpeted floor of Damian’s bedroom to stand at Bruce’s side. He nudges Bruce until the other man makes room for him to stand in the space between his legs and then touches Bruce’s left shoulder through the thin material of his black shirt.

“I’m not laughing at you, Bruce,” Dick says quietly, looking at Bruce’s eyes from up close. “I swear I’m not. You’re a good dad.” He hugs Bruce once, forceful enough to push the breath from the other man’s lungs and then releases him. “It’s just that-- It’s just that this isn’t something that you can fix. Daddy can’t come in and make all his Robins get along and stop being little shits to each other.” He reaches up with one hand and pushes a swath of dark hair off Bruce’s forehead where it is often artfully positioned to hide a particularly gruesome slice of scar tissue. “Hell,  _I_  can’t even do that.”

Bruce frowns. “Why laugh then?”

Dick shrugs again. “I was trying to imagine the look of horror on Damian’s face if you ever sat him down for one of your  _talks_ ,” he says, smiling just from the thought. “He’s eleven. He’s been through a lot. Picking fights with Jason and Tim is just one of the ways that Damian is acting out and if you show him that you know… things are just going to get worse.”

“They are?”

“Yeah,” Dick says with a wealth of knowledge lending weight to his one word answer that Bruce can only guess at. “Now help me look for that damn box.” He makes as if to turn away from Bruce and return to his fruitless search, but then the touch of Bruce’s hand to the side of his arm stops him. Dick looks down at Bruce’s fingers and then glances up at the other man’s eyes. “Yes, Bruce?”

Bruce licks his lips, looking uncharacteristically shy the entire time even though his eyes are practically liquid with desire. “If I’m the father and Damian is my son, what exactly does that make you?”

Dick shudders as though he wants to shake himself all over like a wet dog. He looks at Bruce, really looks at him, and says, “Someone that needs to close the door before Damian comes back and sees something that scars him for life.”

“We shouldn’t do this here,” Bruce says at the same time that he releases Dick’s arm and lets his hand fall back to his lap. “Damian could come back at any time.”

“Then we’d better be quick about it, huh?”

\-----------

“If Damian comes in now--”

Dick shakes his head and then leans in to coax a kiss from Bruce’s lips as he sits in the other man’s lap and winds his limbs around Bruce’s body. When he shifts in Bruce’s lap and leans back, there is a small smile on his lips. “More kissing, less talking,” Dick says with a deliberate little wiggle of his hips that leaves Bruce staring up at him with wide eyes. “We have time.”

Bruce makes a low, hungry noise and then reaches for Dick to haul him close. This kiss, their second so far of the day, is not even  _close_ to being chaste. There is none of the tentative touching that followed their first kiss. Bruce tilts his head slightly to one side and leans in carefully so that their noses don’t bump. The initial brush of lips on lips is electrifying and when Dick lets out a needy moan and yanks ineffectually at Bruce’s shoulders, he almost seems to make Bruce’s mind up for him.

“Penetration is not an option, Dick,” Bruce says in as serious a tone as he can muster with his lover wound all around him and rubbing up against him suggestively. “We can’t let this go too far.”

Dick snorts inelegantly and tosses his hair out of his face. “So we’re getting into heavy petting,” he says with a leer and a purposeful wriggle that stops Bruce cold. “I can work with that.” He reaches for Bruce again and scratches at the nape of Bruce’s thick neck with his ragged fingernails. “Are you gonna let me take anything off or are we going to do this like old times?”

Bruce can’t stifle a hitching intake of breath. The innocuous phrasing brings back memories of their first times, of Bruce bending Dick over one of the tables in the cave or of frantic frottage on a rooftop. Clothes stayed on and mostly in place and Bruce had the intense pleasure of watching his lover come all over himself through various costumes and uniforms.

“Damian is going to kill us,” Bruce says even as his fingers curl around the hem of Dick’s shirt and he starts to inch it up and off.

Dick nods and hums with approval, lifting his arms so that Bruce can finish stripping him. “He  _so_  is,” Dick breathes as Bruce’s too-smooth fingers tickle over his nipples. “Think we can get a level ten out of him?”

Bruce frowns, pursing his thin lips as he looks up at Dick’s wicked smile. “Would you really want that?”

“Having both his father figures fool around his bed is going to distract him from fighting with Jason and Tim,” Dick points out, voice lifting in a little gasp when Bruce pinches his nipples and twists them until Dick is squirming and he is all but  _grinding_  down against Bruce’s erection. “He’ll go throw a tantrum at Alfred, destroy some property, and then he’ll have something in common with his fellow Robins.”

Bruce frowns and for a second, Dick wonders if he’s going to get in trouble with his lover. The frown does not last and a slow and predatory smile steals over his face. “You are  _evil_ ,” Bruce says in an impressed tone.

Dick beams and then leans in to kiss Bruce’s cheek. “I know,” he replies with a little bounce for emphasis, “And that’s why you love me so much.”

“And here I thought it was because of your stunning good looks.” Bruce’s smile is sharp and sweet and it earns him a kiss along with another one of those full-body wriggles from Dick’s lithe body. “I suppose Damian will just be getting a new set of bedding from this…”

“That’s the spirit, Bruce,” Dick says with a brilliant smile on his face. He fists his fingers in the front of Bruce’s shirt and then yanks him up into a kiss that smashes their mouths together. It should be on the wrong side of painful. Instead, the kiss sparks some unfed hunger in them both and Dick groans into Bruce’s mouth before pulling away. “Now can we please do  _something_  before Damian comes back upstairs?”

It takes no work at all for Bruce to take charge and flip the situation.

He takes hold of Dick’s upper arms and pulls him down onto the bed with a heavy thud that sends Damian’s blue sheets flying. As soon as Dick is lying flat on his back, Bruce rises up and covers him with his body. Bruce pins Dick and holds him in place with his body as he nuzzles and kisses at Dick’s bared throat until a mark blooms on the olive skin of Dick’s neck, round and red in the light coming in from outside.

Dick arches up and wraps his arms and legs around Bruce’s bigger body. When he clutches Bruce with his calves and rolls his hips upward, he sighs for the drag of his lover’s erection against his own.

“Come  _on_ , Bruce,” Dick says as his voice catches on a moan. “Fuck me!”

Bruce shakes his head against Dick’s neck and then lifts his head. “No, Dick,” he responds, voice firm and serious even as he pins Dick down and thrusts against him.

Dick sobs in response to Bruce’s double language, fingers clutching at the bedsheets lest he reach up and claw Bruce’s back bloody. In retaliation, Dick works himself, rubs his erection against Bruce’s own until he is gasping at the same time that he has a running stream of commentary in his head. All of it is filthy. All of it revolves around Bruce giving him  _something_  even if it is not exactly what he wants.

“Bruce,” Dick pants out through his slack mouth as he feels his brain start to go fuzzy as his skin begins to feel a size to tight and too hot. “Bruce, you have to--”

Dick does not get to finish his desperate plea.

Damian’s bedroom door swings open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce off of it. Damian is already talking as he walks in, saying, “I hope you’re happy with yourself, Grayson. I -- _ack_!”

Bruce jerks up and tries to move away from Dick’s prone body. “Damian, I’m sorry,” he says, fighting with the tangle of Dick’s strong legs where they remain wrapped around his waist. “We didn’t think you’d be back so soon--”

“So you decided to fornicate on my  _bed_?”

Neither Bruce nor Dick has any answer to that.

Damian’s face is bright red and he starts shaking his head. “I-I can’t believe you two,” he says as he deliberately looks all over the room except at where his father and his… Grayson are still entwined. “I can’t believe you.”

Dick struggles to sit up and braces himself on his elbows over the mattress. Red all the way down to the waistband of his pants, Dick is just as embarrassed as Damian appears to be. “Damian,” he starts to say, “I’m sorry, I just--”

“The box is in the attic by the steamer trunks,” Damian blurts out in a fast rush as he backs up without looking where he is going. “I am going to get Pennyworth and by the time I come back up here, I want you both gone.” He shudders. “And take the sheets with you.”

After Damian leaves, Bruce looks down at Dick. Two spots of red shine on his cheeks. “I told you that we should have done this somewhere else,” he mutters, finally managing to extricate himself from Dick’s body. “He’s never going to speak to us again.”

Dick sighs and flops backward on Damian’s bed. “I know.”

“Alfred is going to be angry.”

“I know.”

Bruce surprises Dick by petting the other man’s side in what is supposed to be a comforting manner. “I don’t regret it though,” he says even as the sound of Damian’s offended shouting echoes through the manor up to their ears.

“I know,” Dick says, tone dry as though he is reciting from a much hated script, “Wait what?” He blinks up at Bruce with confusion shining in his vivid blue eyes. “You don’t?”

Bruce shakes his head and smiles down at Dick. “Maybe I will once Alfred starts giving us the cold shoulder over dinner,” he says, “but I don’t yet.”


End file.
